


Farmers Market

by silverlysilence



Series: A Hint of Smallville in Gotham [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Smallville
Genre: Gen, Gotham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:29:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6531211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverlysilence/pseuds/silverlysilence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred didn't know Gotham University was hosting a Farmers Market, but it turned out to be a good thing that he did go.  He got to meet a certain farm boy whose eyes reflected the loneliness that he had seen on only one other person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Farmers Market

He wasn’t sure what had brought him there that day, but thinking back on it, it had been an accumulation of things. When he had woken up that morning to the sun shining brightly down on Gotham, he felt the need to get out of the dark, quiet manor. It was an old sensation for him, since he usually kept to the grounds, yet the need to stretch his legs was strong and since the Master of the Manor was currently tucked away in his bed – unlikely to get up before noon – Alfred Pennyworth headed out.

At first, he just drove around town getting a good look at the damage Firefly had done during his crime spree before Batman had put an abrupt end to it. He saw some buildings closed while other got away with only scorch marks, but from the looks of things the fires had been put out quickly and the amount of property damage was minimal comparative to one of the Joker’s or Mr. Freeze’s schemes. A few notes on what stores had been the most affected – there would be some anonymous donations to them through the Wayne Foundation – and a well-dressed, yet casual gentleman headed into town on foot.

It always amazed Alfred how a few choice pieces of clothing could make all the difference. Not one person recognized Bruce Wayne’s butler when he was out of his work clothes which was a good thing. By wearing causal clothing, the regular populous tended to let things slip they wouldn’t have if they saw Alfred, just like the high class society would let things slip around a simple butler but not each other.

Sitting down at his favorite coffee house to enjoy a fresh cup of tea – one of the only places which used actual tea leaves and not the powdery substitute masquerading as tea bags – he kept his ears open. Most of the people milling about were college students getting a cup of coffee to-go in order to stay awake in their morning classes after drinking all night. There were a few businessmen and blue-collar workers who had some interesting tidbits of information they let slip in their early morning fog.

The news the businessmen – more like higher ranking members of Intergang judging by the cut of their tailored suits – about kilos going missing after Firefly’s attack would be of interest to the Batman. Whereas the blue-collar workers discussing LexCorp’s newest product would appeal to Bruce, if nothing more than to have Brucie make an appearance at the celebratory party Lex Luthor was surely to have when his product hit the market for the first time. Yet, it was college kids mentioning some kind of gathering going on in the park that truly caught Alfred’s interest.

The Englishman liked knowing the general workings of the city – but had nowhere near the extreme levels of knowledge Batman had of the city – and took pride in his knowledge of Gotham’s events calendar. If only so when the criminally insane were going to target some large event or another, he could relay the information to Gotham’s Dark Knight. Up till now though, he hadn’t heard any chatter about upcoming events taking place in the park and judging by the amount of people heading towards the park, it wasn’t a small thing.

So after leaving a rather generous tip underneath the saucer of his teacup for the frazzled undergrad waitress, Alfred set off to the park. He needn’t have to search hard for what was going on, just followed the growing number of people walking away with large paper bags to find a group of popup tents surrounded by clusters of people meandering about.

It took the butler a moment to figure out the purpose of the gathering, but when it dawned on him, Alfred couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. For in the middle of Gotham City’s park was a Farmers Market. The brief question of where a Farmers Market came from entered his mind only to be quickly answered when he spotted a small white picketed sign.

Gotham University’s Agricultural Department.

Alfred vaguely remembered the agriculture department had gotten a new greenhouse and hydroponics labs courtesy of various donations from Gotham’s rich and famous. There had been a huge party at the university to prompt going Green and Brucie had pledged the new labs while – not to be outdone – LuthorCorp had the greenhouse rebuilt.

Although, Bruce Wayne’s donation had been more to due with Poison Ivy laying waste to the old facilities and Batman completely destroying the building to keep her pheromones inducing plants from being released over the general population. Guilt was a powerful motive to donate over a million dollars than a whim of an eccentric billionaire.

Since the rest of his morning was free, the butler decided to spend some time wondering through the mini Farmers Market. He found most of the stalls were selling some form of produce, but there were a couple selling baked goods and another stall – clearly not from the university – trying to fence fake jewelry. A few of the stalls gave away bite size samples of what they were selling that he happily tried. They weren’t bad, but he had better.

“Should of waited a bit longer before picking,” a voice startled Alfred out of his observations of the Farmers Market.

He turned his head to the side to see a rather tall young man standing next to him. Green eyes, partly hidden by wavy black hair, were looking down at the table before them. The man – clearly – wasn’t a Gothamite, what with wearing a bright red jacket – which made for an easy target for the various gangs and criminal lowlifes – over the top of a blue shirt and jeans. The battered bookbag thrown over one broad-shoulder busting at the seams gave away the young man as a student at Gotham U.

“Excuse me, what was that?” The sudden jerk of the brunet’s head paired with the flush across tanned checks reminded Alfred of a certain dark-haired man as a child being caught with his hand in the cookie jar right before dinner.

“Oh, uh, very sorry, I was uh, just talking to myself,” the young man gave a small, embarrassed grin. For his part, the butler returned the smile, suppressing the disbelief he had when he heard the heavy Midwestern accent. It wasn’t an accent he heard much of in Gotham and those who were from the Midwest tended to suppress their accent in order to fit in with the high society crowds or risk being ostracized.

“It’s alright but out of curiosity, what makes you say that?”

“Huh? Oh, um, well they picked the tomatoes while they were still green and I guess you could put them into a paper bag to wait for them to redden, but they should’ve left them on the vine for a little longer. That way the flavors have more time to develop because contrary to popular belief, just because tomatoes turn red doesn’t mean they’ve ripened. Although, I guess you could use these green tomatoes to make fried green tomatoes,” the student rambled on, long fingers fidgeting with the strap to his bookbag, as those green eyes flickered back and forth between the table and Alfred.

This time, the butler couldn’t keep the slight amount of surprise from entering his voice. “Fried green tomatoes? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of such a dish before.”

“They’re a Midwestern thing, my ma makes the best,” the boy’s nerves evaporated as a smile lite up his whole face. The smile was so open and honest that Alfred couldn’t help but return it with a genuine smile of his own. Yet as he watched the boy's sunny demeanor changed and the smile crumbled away to a forced grin. “Made.”

The small correction was whispered out so softly Alfred almost thought he had imagined it. He knew he hadn’t though and when implications sank in, the butler felt his stomach sink as well. Once again, he was reminded of a certain young charge of his doing his best to put on a brave face and handle what the world had thrown at him while falling part on the inside.

“If you want, I could, give you the recipe?” the boy hesitantly offered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The earlier melancholy was still plastered across brunet’s face, but there was a little bit of hopeful anticipation peeking through and Alfred didn’t have the heart to turn away from the suffering of the dark haired young man.

“That would be agreeable, -?”

“Clark, Clark Kent.”

“It’s a pleasure to you Clark, I’m Alfred Pennyworth.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

He didn’t know it then, but his meeting with Clark would change his life. It would also be the reason he would come back the following week and every week after to meet up with the young man trying so hard to hide his pain. A grieving teenager looking for some hope in the cruel city of Gotham and found the kindness humanity had to offer in an old butler. A young man would one day save the world and more importantly, would save the only family Alfred had left.

And if Bruce Wayne gave him a curious look the next morning at breakfast, Alfred ignored it as he served the freshly fried green tomatoes with his usual morning meal.


End file.
